Men and wenches stepped aside and Robert led her through the path of them toward a dark and narrow stairway in the rear. Skye felt eyes boring into her. The men coveted her gold, or her person, Skye thought. The women would have gladly robbed her blindly of her clothing.
But Robert was at her back. And he had announced that she had come for the Hawk. None of them would touch her.
“This is awful!” she muttered.
Robert passed ahead, catching her hand. She saw his eyes, and he flashed her a smile. “As I said, milady, the Hawk is a pirate.”
“Umm. And welcome to his ways.”
“You mustn’t be…jealous, milady.”
“Jealous! I assure you, sir, I am not jealous!”
“Umm, well, begging your pardon, milady, it did seem at the end that you and the Hawk had settled…er…well, certain of your difficulties. But you must remember, and I warn you kindly, that he is a rogue and a fiend.”
“Oh, is he? Thank you for the warning, Robert. I might not have noted that on my own!”
They had come to the top of the stairs. Robert smiled, and with a broad shrug he cast open the door there. He prodded Skye into the murky light of the room, then closed the door behind her.
Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the light in the room. She heard a soft giggle, then she stared with amazement and a slow simmering rage.
Robert had brought her to the Hawk, all right!
“Lady Kinsdale! Why, no, ’tis Lady Cameron, is it not?”
She stood dead still, collecting her wits and control as she stared at the Hawk. He lay bare-chested atop the bed, with a beautiful redheaded wench curled nearly atop him. The girl watched her with amusement; the Hawk watched her with interest. His hand rested lightly atop the redhead’s hair, and he seemed not at all distressed to have been found so by Skye.
“Aye, ’tis Lady Cameron,” she murmured, pushing away from the door. If the sea slime meant to unnerve her, he would be surprised. She would never let him know that her insides were afire, that she had thought that he had come to care for her because he had taken her with such passion and such fire.…
She was not jealous! He was a fiend, a beast, a pirate! Robert had warned her.
But she had spent all that time on the road here wondering what she should do if he demanded her love in payment for service. Demanded her love! The rogue had a string of women in every port.
The sheets were drawn to his waist. He folded his hands over them and cocked his bearded face to the side. “Far be it from me to question a lady, madame, but what are you doing in such a place? Did you miss me so, then? Were you anxious to come back?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but teased the redhead at his side. “If Lady Cameron is anxious, then you must hurry away, Yvette.”
“I’ve come on business!” Skye snapped.
“Oh. Oh!” He pretended that it was a very grave matter, narrowing his eyes. Skye shivered suddenly, fiercely. Now she shivered because his resemblance to her husband was so great. Cousins! They were near to being twins. If she had not seen the both of them at the same time on the day that she sailed away from Bone Cay, she could easily think that they were one.
Well, the Silver Hawk had been bred on the wrong side of the Cameron covers. She had seen the portraits now at Cameron Hall. This Cameron had the eyes, if not the name.
“Sir—” Skye began, but he interrupted her, turning to the redhead.
“Yvette, love, this is business.” He gave her an affectionate pat on the rump, and Yvette arose, dragging one of the covers along with her. She wrinkled her nose Skye’s way.
“That’s business, Hawk? Eh, is she paying you then, love, for the servicing?”
Skye nearly gasped, but determined that Yvette was a whore, and she was a lady. She smiled sweetly instead and strode very calmly for the washbowl. Within a blink of an eye, she had tossed the contents of it over Yvette’s red head. The girl cried out in shock and rage.
“Eh, Hawk—stop her, or I will!”
Yvette lunged across the bed for her. The Hawk reached out for Yvette, capturing her wrists. Sodden, she fell against him and he laughed. “I cannot kiss and tell, Yvette, but if Lady Cameron needs a word with me, then for”—his silver gaze shot to Skye—“then for old times’ sake, I must listen.”
“You’re a very scurvy son-of-a-bitch, sir,” Skye said sweetly. She watched as Yvette arose, looked her way with menace, then smiled to the Hawk.
“See you later, love.”
“You’ll see him on a gibbet, I’m sure,” Skye said pleasantly. Her eyes remained upon him. Yvette slammed the door.
